


Sin(fully)

by truth_renowned



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Lots and lots of smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-28 01:01:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12594524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/truth_renowned/pseuds/truth_renowned
Summary: Peggy and Daniel have plans for dinner. They never make it out of his house.





	Sin(fully)

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by two words: ‘strip’ and ‘sinner’.

Daniel unlocked the front door to his house, motioning for Peggy to go first. She switched her overnight bag from one hand to the other as she walked inside.

“Can’t believe I did this,” he said, pointing to the stripe of dried coffee on his light green shirt. “At least I missed my pants.”

Peggy nodded. “I think I’ll change my shoes.” She looked down, seeing the large scuff along the side of her favorite red pumps. It hadn’t been a good day for either of their wardrobes.

She had packed the bag and snuck it into the boot of Daniel’s car on her way into the office that morning, making the decision to spend the night at his house. It was a first, as she normally snuck him into her suite at Howard’s. Not that it was sneaking. Howard’s mustache was always far too happy the mornings after Daniel visited her. She wondered if he had the rooms bugged, then wiped the vile thought from her mind with a shudder.

The plan was to go out to dinner, so Daniel headed into his bedroom to change. She opened her bag and extracted a pair of black pumps. After slipping on the shoes, she walked into his bedroom.

She noted the sparse furnishings, though the room was spotless, bed made so perfectly she was sure she could bounce a dime off of it. She wasn’t surprised at all. 

He stood in front of his closet, the dress shirt now removed, his back to her as he searched for a replacement. She leaned against the doorjamb as her gaze traced the curves of his shoulders, down his left arm, across his undershirt-covered back, then up his right arm. She loved his arms. Having those arms around her was a guilty pleasure, except she didn't feel a hint of guilt. She did, however, feel immense amounts of pleasure.

He lifted the undershirt over his head, giving her a full view of his back, well-defined muscles, broad shoulders that eventually tapered to a slender waist.

Though she couldn’t see his chest, she knew everything about it. Skin smooth yet firm, a smattering of wispy hairs at the top of his breastbone that her fingers loved to ruffle. That smooth skin all the way down until to just below his abdomen, where dark, coarse hairs led a trail to one of her favorite places on his body. 

She smiled. There were so many favorites for her. ‘Beautiful’ wasn’t a word used in proper society to describe a man, but she saw Daniel as beautiful, inside and out. He wouldn’t agree, of course, choosing to hide behind a self-deprecating veil when describing his body. She knew his leg controlled his self-image, but she did everything she could to convince him that his body -- his entire body -- never failed to excite her. 

She was so lost in her visual stroll across his body that she didn't realize he'd turned around.

“What?” he asked, head tilted to the side.

“Nothing. Just admiring the show.”

He grinned. “If I’d known you wanted a striptease, I would have slowed down.”

Her smile turned more mischievous as she quickly closed the distance between them. Her gaze flicked between his eyes and mouth as the tips of her fingers skimmed his chest, on that oh-so-smooth skin, trailing down and only stopping once they reached his belt. 

“Slow wasn’t what I had in mind.”

“Peg, are you seducing me?”

“Do I need to?”

He laughed. “No, but don't let that stop you.”

“I won’t.” 

“I thought we were going to dinner,” he said, not convincing at all.

“Changed my mind.”

Her knuckles brushed over the zipper of his trousers. It had the desired effect; she felt him stirring. 

His hand stilled hers. “Can you give me a few minutes? I need to…” He shrugged.

She knew exactly what he was talking about: his leg. It was the end of a long day and the skin of his thigh would likely be chafed and reddened. He wanted to clean it up before she saw it. More than a month together and he still did this.

“Your leg isn't the appendage I was thinking about.”

His lips quirked, fighting a grin. “I see.”

“Well, I don’t and I want to.” She brushed a hand over his cheek. “I don’t care what your leg looks like. I never have. When are you going to learn that?”

They locked gazes as her hands made quick work of his belt, as well as the hook and zipper of his trousers. The fabric slid down his legs, revealing the prosthetic and its meticulous criss-cross of fabric straps. She knew it to be a relatively new leg, as advancements allowed for a suction-socket system, with the straps securing it to his upper thigh. She bent down, taking a second to push out a long breath over his abdomen, then unlaced his shoes. He reached out to her -- partly for stability and, she suspected, partly just to touch her -- as he stepped out of the shoes. It took a bit of maneuvering around the foot of the prosthetic, but she finally pulled the trousers from his legs, tossing the fabric in a heap behind him.

As soon as she stood again, his hands cupped her face. Instinctually, her head tilted up and to the side, ready for his lips. The kiss was deep, hungry, tongues thrusting and parrying as hands explored all available flesh. She had more to choose from than he did, and she took full advantage by touching him everywhere, loving the warmth of his skin under her fingertips.

Their lips parted, both out of breath. She took his hands in hers and led him the few steps to the bed, then motioned with her head. He got the hint, sitting on the edge of the mattress.

She knelt in front of him, removing his sock, then turning her attention to the prosthetic. She’d never undone the straps before but knew what to do from watching him fasten them more than a few times. His hands covered hers, and she looked up at him, shaking her head.

“Let me do this for you,” she said softly. 

As he met her gaze, she realized that even though they’d had sex, the simple act of removing his prosthetic was by far more intimate. Though he’d never said it, she knew it wasn’t something he had shared with another woman in this way. She felt lucky to be the one.

As soon as he let go of her hands, she worked the straps until all were undone. She ran a hand along his upper thigh, trying to remove the red lines left by the straps. She tugged and a soft ‘snick’ broke the silence as the prosthetic detached from his thigh. The mesh sock clung to his stump, so she delicately removed it, the tight honeycomb pattern of the material still imprinted in his skin.

The base was irritated, angry raised scars snaking his stump. She knew those scars could be sensitive, nerves capable of sending sharp pain through his body if aggravated. She kept her hand away, focusing on his upper thigh again, her finger tracing a painstakingly slow line across to his tented briefs. She looked up at him as her knuckles stroked him through the cotton fabric, his sharp intake of breath exactly the reaction she wanted. She touched the elastic band at his waist but his hand grabbed hers.

“Uh uh. Your turn.”

She arched an eyebrow, questioning.

“I gave you a show,” he said. “Your turn to give me one.”

Laughing, she stood and took a few steps back. Reaching behind her, she started to lower the zipper of her skirt but he shook his head.

“Top first. Work your way down.”

With a nod, she stepped out of her shoes, then worked the buttons of her shirt, never breaking eye contact with him. When the last button was undone, she slowly pulled the shirt from her shoulders. 

She toyed with him, taking far longer than necessary to unfasten her brassiere, finally letting it fall to the carpet next to the shirt. She smiled as she saw him take a deep breath and let it out. If she didn’t think she had his attention before, she undoubtedly had it now.

Next was the skirt, and she took her time lowering the zipper before letting the fabric slide down. She then pushed the slip down and kicked it aside, leaving her in panties, stockings and garter belt.

As her fingers started on the first clip of the garter, she heard him say, “No.”

She looked up, seeing him crooking a finger at her. She couldn’t help grinning.

She approached him, and he spread his legs so she could stand between them. He patted her thigh, and it took a few seconds for her to realize he wanted her to raise her leg. She did, setting her foot on the mattress next to his thigh as her hands went to his shoulders for balance. His hand went to one of the garter clips and opened it, then opening the other clips in quick succession. Delicately, he rolled down the stocking and slipped it off her foot, as if he knew exactly what he was doing.

“You’re not the only one with keen observation skills,” he said with a smirk.

He motioned for her to switch legs and spent far too long opening the clips and removing the other stocking. She started to lower her leg but he held it in place, his hand on her foot. She gasped as he planted a kiss on her upper thigh and his free hand smoothed over her hip and around, cupping her bum. 

Another kiss, this one open-mouthed, then another, and another still, each moving closer toward her core. Surely he knew what his hands and mouth were doing to her. The word ‘sinful’ popped into her head. What he was doing, what she was feeling, was sinful. Sinfully delicious, she thought.

“Remember when you said you didn’t want slow?” he mumbled against her thigh.

She nodded.

“Well, I do want slow.”

She groaned, and he chuckled as he pulled back.

“Everything in our lives is moving fast,” he continued. “For the first time, we have some time to ourselves. I want to take it slow.”

She nodded, though she didn’t necessarily agree. If she were honest, taking it slow had never happened with her when it came to sex. Sex was… well, just that: sex. Working as efficiently as possible to find release, preferably but not necessarily together. It certainly was that way with Daniel so far. She could count on one hand how many times they had been together, and all of them were quick. Satisfying but quick.

As far as she knew, slow and steady was not in her sexual vocabulary.

“Slow it is, then,” she replied, lowering her leg. 

“You sound disappointed.”

“Not at all. As long as it involves me and you and the bed you’re sitting on, I’m happy.”

He patted the mattress. “Then join me.”

With a wicked smile, she removed her remaining piece of clothing, tossing it to the floor. Her hands went to his waistband and coaxed his hips, which he raised enough for her to pull the cotton fabric from his hips and down his legs. Seeing him half-hard already made her think that slow wasn't going to happen.

She crawled up onto the bed, stretching out behind him.

“I thought we were doing slow,” he said, moving to prop himself up on an elbow next to her.

“We can be slow but fully unclothed.”

She couldn’t keep a straight face, knowing how much a lie that statement was. His grin told her he thought the same thing.

Her eyelids fluttered closed as his hand started on her hip, sliding up to her stomach and higher still, its journey at a snail’s pace yet leaving a trail of heat all the way to her breast.

“Daniel.” She thrust her chest out.

“Slow,” he whispered.

“Bollocks.”

He chuckled as he lowered his head, his tongue lapping once at her nipple. His teeth followed with a light nip, which pulled a moan from her.

His hand wasn’t idle, painting wide swaths across her stomach, squeezing at her waist, brushing over her hipbone and lower. Much lower. Without thought, her legs opened, inviting his hand to where she most wanted it.

“Slow, Peg.” She could hear the smirk in his voice.

“If you say slow one more time, I am leaving.”

“No, you’re not.”

He was right; she wasn’t going anywhere.

His finger circled around her core, just missing that bundle of nerves. She squirmed under his touch, opening her legs wider, wanting him to bloody get on with it. His finger slipped away, and his hand settled on her inner thigh.

She opened her eyes, and he was staring at her, desire in his eyes, definitely, but something else. Something almost hesitant.

She touched his cheek. “What?”

“I want…” He took in a deep breath, let it out slowly. “I want you...”

“You have me, Daniel. I would think that is obvious.”

“No… I mean, yes, I want you… but I want you to… show me...” He paused, frustrated.

“Just tell me,” she said, insistent.

“I want to know what you do to… pleasure yourself.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it. Was he…?

“You want to watch me...” She nodded toward where his touch still was burning her skin.

He frowned. “I’m sorry. I’m embarrassing you.”

“No, no. I… I’ve never had that request before.”

“I’m killing the mood, aren’t I?”

She laughed nervously. “Actually, you’re having the opposite effect.” 

His eyebrows quirked and a grin curled the corners of his lips.

“I will do this,” she continued, “on one condition.”

“Anything.”

“You have to participate at some point.”

His grin grew into a full-blown smile. “It’s a sacrifice, I admit, but I’m willing to make it.”

He withdrew his hand from her thigh but she shook her head.

“No, keep it there.”

Somehow knowing his hand was there made it more… forbidden. Sinful, even. There was that word again. She had been taught, had it drilled into her brain, really, that touching oneself was a sin. What would this be considered? A double sin? Did she really care?

Her hand slipped between her legs, fingers brushing against his. His hand squeezed hers briefly, then went back to its place on her thigh. Instinctively, her finger burrowed under her folds and started stroking. She already was worked up, and this just heightened the desire tenfold. A hundredfold, even.

She thought it ironic that she was doing this in front of Daniel, considering he had been the subject of more than a few fantasies when she touched herself. Her finger moved faster, and his fingertips dug into her skin. She moaned at the pressure and increased her own pressure and speed. The familiar fluttering in her stomach started, moving lower and lower until her muscles contracted and her heart raced.

His breathing became more labored, deeper and faster. Her eyes snapped open as she felt the mattress shift. He was moving down the bed, his gaze never leaving her hand.

Knowing he was watching her do something that wasn’t meant to be seen by others sent yet another jolt down her body, pooling right where her finger was, providing a slickness that helped her efforts. She changed the angle and moaned again. She was close, so close...

She started as his fingers closed around her wrist. He tugged her hand away from its task, and he wrapped his lips around her finger, licking it clean. The only sound she could manage was a whimper. 

He let go over her wrist and her hand immediately went back to work, her eyes unable to stay open as she stroked faster. The pulse of arousal in her gut was constant and electric. So close, so close…

Suddenly, her hand was moved away and she felt the swipe of a tongue.

“Oh God!”

Her hips lifted so far off the bed, she felt like she was doing a backbend. She fell back onto the mattress with a slight bounce, then lifted her head. She had to consciously get control of her breathing for fear of hyperventilating.

Had he just…? Yes, he had. 

“Daniel,” she said, unsure what else to say. 

His head was between her legs, and he was looking up at her, eyes impossibly dark.

“Let me do this for you,” he said, echoing her words from earlier.

She couldn’t stop a gasp from escaping her lips. She’d never had the pleasure, literally. One woman, a nurse she knew in the war, claimed to have been the lucky recipient, and she said it was the most amazing feeling. Men certainly enjoyed it, women pleasuring them with their mouths. That, Peggy knew, was very common, and something of which she had first-hand knowledge, but this...

“This is not something a man normally does for a woman.”

“Depends on the man,” he responded.

She gasped again; had she said that aloud?

“It's okay, Peg. I don't have to if you don't want--”

“I didn't say that!”

She cringed at how needy her voice sounded. But she was, really. She wanted this, and she wanted Daniel to do this to her, _for_ her. She opened her eyes, and upon seeing the mischievous grin on his face, she knew he wanted to do this as well.

“Oh, dear Lord,” she whispered as he resumed.

For some reason, her thoughts went to sin yet again, as in how much sin was happening in this room. Not being married and cavorting in bed was bad enough, but what he was doing with his mouth was the sin of all sins, right up there next to ‘thou shalt not kill’. She huffed out a laugh, wondering if one of the commandments could have been ‘thou shalt not put thy tongue on thy partner’s naughty parts’.

He hadn’t noticed her laugh, too intent on making her scream, which she was very close to doing. He was making her think sinful thoughts, feel sinful feelings and utter sinful sounds, and she loved all of it.

“Daniel.” It was more a groan than a word.

He sped up his efforts, fingers joining his tongue, and she breathed in sharply. Before she had a chance to exhale, he hummed against her, and that was all she needed, the vibrations of his lips sending a series of shockwaves through her body. She was faintly aware of an unintelligible sound from her lips, of her hips lifting off the mattress, of strong hands holding her thighs, of a tongue circling against her until it became too much, her muscles twitching from overstimulation.

She grabbed for his head, and he seemed to sense that he needed to stop.

“Too much,” she whispered.

“Sorry.”

Her laugh came out more as a squeak. “Daniel Sousa, you are never again to apologize for doing that.”

“Assuming I do it again,” he replied with that sass she knew so well.

She looked at him, eyebrow arched, which took more effort than it should have.

He smiled. “Count on it.”

She sighed, and her head fell back. That nurse was right; it _was_ the most amazing feeling.

Then she started laughing, more like giggling, actually. As a rule, Peggy Carter did not giggle, but it couldn't be helped. Once it started, she had a hard time controlling it.

“Get up here,” she said in between giggles, convinced the only way to shut herself up was to give her mouth something else to do.

He planted a hand on either side of her arms and hauled himself up, partially hovering over her with his stump resting in her thigh. She wasted no time pulling his head toward hers and locking her lips to his.

She tasted her own desire on his tongue, and it was the ultimate aphrodisiac. She couldn’t get enough of it, of him. Her hands moved to his hair, grasping clumps, probably too hard but he didn’t seem to mind. The kiss was brutal, deep and, yes, sinful. She felt her desire climbing again, higher than before. God, she wanted him!

She reluctantly broke the kiss, the need to breathe too overwhelming. 

He moved next to her, propped up in an elbow again, his hand lazily drawing abstract shapes on her hip. She hummed her contentment, unable to keep her fingers from playing with the little cluster of hairs on his chest. Her gaze moved down his body, his arousal more than evident. Rock hard would be the adequate yet inappropriate phrase to use. She would need to remedy that...

“I've been thinking about this,” he said, breaking her train of thought.

She smirked. “Obviously.” 

“Not that,” he replied, tilting his head toward where his face had just been. “Well, I guess I have been thinking about that. A lot. But about this more.”

Maybe it was the high she was still coming off of, but she had no earthly idea what he was talking about. Her face must have shown it.

“This,” he said, running a hand down her arm. “Me up here. You down there.”

She shook her head, still confused.

“What normal couples do. Guy on top, gal on bottom.”

It took a few seconds for her to catch on, but then she nodded slowly. “You mean missionary position.”

He nodded as well.

She started to ask if that were even possible for him but stopped. If anyone could figure out a way, it was Daniel.

“I'd like to give it a shot,” he said with a minute tilt of his head.

“Yes. So would I.”

“It could end in disaster.”

She caressed his cheek. “Or, as I suspect, it could be incredible.”

The smile on his face made her heart sing. He really had been thinking about this, that somehow he was inferior because of a sexual position. Nothing could be further from the truth.

“You ready?” he asked.

“Yes, but you aren't.”

His brow furrowed for a few beats, then relaxed. 

“Right.” He rolled over and reached for the night stand. A scrape of wood, a shuffling of papers, and he turned back to her with his prize.

“May I?” she asked.

“Not advised. One touch from you right now could do me in.”

He ripped open the paper packet and removed the contents.

“That's the point, isn't it?”

“No, the point is us, together,” he said, rolling on the prophylactic.

“That may not be possible.”

“You never know unless you try.”

He positioned himself over her, forearms in the mattress, stump resting on her thigh. His good leg slipped between her thighs, and his erection sat ready at her entrance. She reached between them, guiding him until he pushed forward, just the tip of him inside her.

Her hands framed his face and he leaned down, placing the softest kiss on her lips, before his hips crept forward, or at least it felt like they crept. He moved far too slowly for her liking, but finally, with one last push, he was home.

The look of concentration on his face made her realize how important this was to him. He wanted this to work, to be able to be with her this way. Truth be told, she wanted this to work as well. For him, not for her. She wanted him to feel whole, to feel he was everything she wanted in a man. She already knew he was, but she wanted him to know it, too.

His expression softened. “You okay?”

“I'm wonderful,” she said on the end of a content sigh. “You?”

“Never felt better.”

He almost completely withdrew, then slowly pushed in, his angle of approach perfectly brushing over her still-sensitive nerves.

“You could move faster,” she prodded, wiggling her hips.

“You're right. I could, if I wanted to.”

“Don't tell me you're still on the ‘I want to take it slow’ thing.”

“No, I've moved on to the ‘I'm trying not to make a fool of myself’ stage.”

She caressed his face. “You will not make a fool of yourself. You never could.”

He pulled out, then pushed back in. Out and in. His hips moving slow and steady. Her arousal growing slow and steady. She realized slow and steady wasn’t so bad after all.

It didn’t last, however, as his movements became faster, less exact. He looked into her eyes as he thrust into her, and the intensity was almost too much for her to take, yet it wasn’t enough. Never enough.

She tilted her hips up, which allowed his body to impact hers in just the right place, over and over, just where she needed it to…

With a gasp, she took flight. One second her body was still, the next it shook with ripples of pleasure reaching every nerve. Her muscles clenched, restricted only by his hardness still moving inside her, his hips pistoning until finally he stilled, pushing out her name on the end of a moan.

He faltered, his lower body relaxing into hers as he leaned his head on her chest. She smoothed her hands over his sweat-slicked back, down to his bum, giving it a squeeze.

“You do know,” she said, “that you have forever ruined quick sex for me.”

He lifted his head, a wicked smile on his lips. “I know, but it was worth it.”

“Indeed.” Then she started laughing, no giggling this time, just full-bodied laughter.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

“I was just thinking… what would Miss Baines think of what we just did?”

His expression perfectly conveyed absolute confusion.

“Miss Baines,” she continued, “was one of the most detestable teachers at St. Martin-in-the-Fields High School. She was also the most prudish. She informed all of us that ‘having relations’ before marriage was a sin worthy of committing you to Hell. Goodness knows what she would think about…” She smiled, one full of sin and no regrets.

“Do you care what she would think?”

“Not particularly, though seeing her apoplectic at the thought does give me joy.”

He chuckled. “You were a handful when you were younger, weren’t you?”

She ran a hand along his forearm. “Still am.”

“You’ve got that right,” he replied. “So I guess we’re going to Hell?”

She slipped a hand behind his neck, pulling his head closer until his lips were a whisper from hers. “If so, we may as well make the most of it.”


End file.
